


and the wolves have come again

by AvaRosier



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Disgustingly fluffy, F/M, Post Series, jon and sansa were obvi fucking like rabbits, next generation stark babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: The Queen in the North thinks about her children on a fine summer's day.Would've been for the Drabblefest day three: 'children', but it ended up much longer and I refuse to kill two of the next gen starklings to satisfy such a restrictive word count. Not after all the trouble Jon and Sansa went to to practically repopulate the North on their own.





	and the wolves have come again

The lightest dusting of snow had frosted the earth that morning, but it had melted by midday. Even now, Sansa couldn't believe it; during the worst of the winter, when the Long Night was upon them, she had feared never being this warm again. She gazed out into the yard, where all her children were gathered. It was so sweet to have them all together in Winterfell again. She spied her eldest daughter, the younger twin by ten minutes, laughing as she bested Lord Cerwyn's heir at archery. Her dark curls were for the moment tamed by a single braid and her gray eyes bright and dancing. Her Serena had inherited all the sly tongue that was in her mother and father, a trait that had been difficult to teach her to restrain. At six and ten, she was to be betrothed to the eldest son and heir of Lady Wynafryd Manderly. It was for the announcement of this betrothal that the family had gathered.

In the practice yard, Serena's twin practiced sparring with his younger brother. Both Robb and Serena looked so very much like their father, but it was Robb whom the elder Northmen frequently remarked had his grandfather's temperament about him. It had been so difficult for Sansa to let her first babe leave home to be fostered in the Vale. She had left home with her father and sister all those years before and their world fell apart. But Robb had returned safely and it wasn't just a mother's pride that led her to believe he would someday make a great lord and King. _King Robb Stark, second of his name_.

Robb and Serena were her winter children, born during the winter that had followed the Long Night. But Benjen...Benjen had come squalling into the world with the first spring suns. Now _he_ reminded Sansa and Jon of their lost brother, the Young Wolf. Benjen had been away squiring in the Riverlands these past two years and at three and ten, he was already on his way to becoming quite the strapping young man. She sighed at the thought of her son winking at two giggling maids the other day- perhaps she needed to have Jon give the boy a talk about respect and discretion.

Frowning, Sansa bent over the railing until she spotted eleven year-old Mariah, head bent over a book as usual. Her hair was a darker shade of auburn than Benjen's but they had the same Tully eyes. Uncle Edmure had nearly wept the first time he met her- he saw in her the very image of Catelyn. Out of all their children, it worried Sansa how Mariah at times struggled to fit in with her siblings. She seemed more given to introspection and solitude. But she was exceedingly clever and Jon always made sure to send out for new books to add to Winterfell's library for his daughter's sake.

Raucous shouting reached her ears and Sansa had no problem spotting those responsible: Eddara and Rickard. Wherever trouble was, those two were certain to be at the center of it. At nine and six, they were turning their parents gray at a faster rate than any of their siblings could boast. Eddara had Sansa's light red hair but Jon's eyes. She idolized her Aunt Arya, always nipping at her heels whenever she was in Winterfell. Sansa thought she had demonstrated much restraint when she allowed her little girl to learn how to wield a small sword under Arya's instruction. Every bit the wild wolf was her younger brother Rickard, whose dark hair was perpetually uncombed. He knew how to make his gray eyes big and innocent, hence why he got away with too many of his childish crimes.

Sansa looked down at Jocelyn, her sweet babe- and perhaps her last- where she rested her chubby face and fists against her mother's shoulder in sleep. Her and Jon had wondered if the other part of his blood would show up in their children. Just when they thought it wouldn't, here came Jocelyn with her downy hair, straight and dark, and her indigo eyes. If it weren't for the presence of Lady Jyana Reed- also known as Ashara Dayne- Sansa would never have let her babe from her breast out of fear that some might think her a threat to their hard won peace. It was hard, some days, to not see disaster around every corner.

She sighed with contentment. It was a blessing that her children had only known happiness and peace, never brutality and hardship. Down in the practice yard, her husband had taken over instructing Robb and Benjen. As if sensing her attention, he looked up at her, a patch over one eye, and smiled. He had confessed to her, on the night they probably conceived Mariah, that she- not Melisandre- had truly given him his life back. And in exchange, he had given her the life she had dreamed of.

Life might not be a song, but sometimes it could be even better.

 


End file.
